


A Talk

by SaucyWench



Series: Cups and Roses [8]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: M/M, brief mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:24:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4773422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaucyWench/pseuds/SaucyWench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Summer Fandom Raffle Exchange on Tumblr.  The prompt was:  The only time I will ever do this.</p><p>Mitchell is sick of the way Anders is treated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Talk

Anders came back from his family thing with a limp. When Mitchell asked what happened, Anders said it wasn’t a big deal. Mitchell let it drop. He didn’t forget, though.

The next time, it was bruises on Anders’ upper arms, like someone had grabbed him. When Mitchell asked about it, Anders shrugged it off as one of his brothers getting too emotional. “Besides, Mitchell, you know I bruise like overripe fruit.” Mitchell didn’t forget that either.

A few visits went by without any drama, but eventually there was another family thing. Anders was out late, and when he returned he went straight to bed. Mitchell followed, but when he tried to spoon up behind Anders, Anders flinched away with a hiss.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing, Mitchell, I’m just sore,” Anders tried to dismiss Mitchell’s concerns.

Mitchell gave a gentle tug to the shirt Anders wore, pulling it up enough to see dark marks on Anders’ back. “Take off the shirt and let me look.”

“Honestly, Mitchell, it’s nothing.”

“Then let me see.” When Anders didn’t move, he added, “Please?”

Anders heaved a sigh, but sat up and took his shirt off. He looked over his shoulder when Mitchell gasped. He didn’t quite meet Mitchell’s eyes when he said, “It looks worse than it is.”

There was heavy bruising all over Anders’ back, and a mark in the clear shape of a hand on the juncture of his shoulder and neck. Mitchell said, “It looks like someone tried to throw you through a brick wall!”

“It’s not that bad, Mitch,” Anders murmured, hunching his shoulders. “Let it go.”

Mitchell didn’t want to let it go this time. Right now, what he wanted to do was rail against Anders for defending his abusive family, and then go teach those assholes what it’s like to be picked on by someone bigger and stronger. Throwing people through brick walls sounded perfect right about now.

Instead he kept his mouth shut, clenching his jaw so hard the muscles in it started to jump, and rose to get Anders a heating pad and some painkillers.

The next day, Anders was taking a hot shower to help with some of the ache and stiffness when his text alert chimed. Mitchell stared at the phone for a long moment. He knew that tone. That was the sound that went off every time Mike sent a text, commanding Anders to appear for another family thing. Mitchell had grown to loathe that sound. The alert sounded again and Mitchell muttered, “Fuck it.”

He picked up the phone and opened the texts. _Family thing at the bar. Now._

The muscle in his jaw started to jump again. It was time he had a chat with Anders’ family. He stuck his head in the bathroom and over the sound of the water he said, “I’m running out for a few minutes. When I get back let’s order a pizza.”

“Sure,” Anders called.

Mitchell paused only long enough to grab his jacket and headed out the door.

When Mitchell walked into the bar, Mike, Axl, Ty and Olaf were the only ones there. When the door closed behind him, Mike scowled and asked, “Where’s Anders?”

“He’s at home,” Mitchell said, crossing to the bar and taking a seat.

The Johnson clan all exchanged a glance before Olaf said, “Not that it isn’t nice to see you, Mitchell, but we need Anders right now.”

“He isn’t coming.”

“Dammit!” Mike spat. “Is he drunk again?”

Mitchell looked from Mike to the others. All of them wore expressions of anger or exasperation. He said, “That’s all that you see, isn’t it?”

“What else is there to see? Anders is a drunk,” Mike said and leaned on the bar.

“If he’s drunk right now, it’s probably to try and numb the pain from his back.”

Axl had a guilty flush but he said, “Maybe if he’d keep his smart mouth shut, he wouldn’t have a sore back.”

Just talking wasn’t going to get through to any of them, Mitchell realized. He could do more than talk, though. He stood up and leaned on the back of the stool and said, “Okay then. This is the only time I will ever do this, so listen close.”

“Do what?” Ty asked.

“Give you a warning like this. Usually my warnings come with a lot more pain and suffering, but Anders has some sort of weird attachment to you lot.”

“We’re his family,” Olaf said.

“Are you?” Mitchell took a step closer to Olaf. “All you do is hurt and belittle Anders, use him, and then throw him away when you’re done, at least until you need him again. What kind of family is that?”

“He has no right discussing family things with you,” Mike said with a frown.

“He’s never said a word.” Mitchell went back to the bar and leaned on the brass rail surrounding it, mirroring Mike’s pose. “He doesn’t have to. I can see the bruises.”

“It’s none of your business,” Mike said.

Mitchell leaned closer and gave him a mirthless smile. “I’m making it my business. I’m telling you, it stops now. All of it. The beatings, the bruises, the accusations, everything.”

“Or what?” Mike sneered.

Resisting the urge to smash the look off of Mike’s face, Mitchell allowed his eyes to bleed to black. He squeezed the brass rail in his fist, crumpling it as he said, “Or I come back here and we repeat this conversation. Only next time, it will have a lot more of that pain and suffering I mentioned.”

“You can’t kill me without killing Anders.” The blood had drained from Axl’s face, but he was putting on a brave front.

Still smiling, Mitchell faced Axl and let his fangs drop. “I know. So what you need to worry about, Axl, is quality of life. I know how to keep humans alive a very, very long time. Long after they’ve started to beg for death. Think about that.”

All the Johnsons watched in silence as Mitchell blinked and his eyes went back to normal and the fangs retracted. Mitchell turned and went to the door, but paused before opening it. He turned and looked back at all of them. Without bothering to try and disguise the disgust he felt, he said, “I know Anders can be a bastard sometimes. Has it ever occurred to any of you that he does it to try and push you away? That maybe he’s reacting to the way you’ve always treated him?”

The only one who looked as if his question had any affect was Ty. The rest of them looked belligerent.

“Is it really that difficult to keep from harming Anders? He’s your _brother_ , for fuck’s sake! You all make me sick.” Mitchell grimaced and left. He heard Ty call his name before the door shut behind him, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even want to be in the same room with them anymore.

When he got home, Anders was wrapped in a blanket on the couch watching a show. He glanced at Mitchell and looked back at the television before asking, “Anything you want to tell me?”

In a rush, Mitchell replied, “I went to your brother’s bar and told them to quit hurting you.” He didn’t feel guilty for that, but he did feel guilty for snooping in Anders’ phone. He sat down on the couch beside Anders.

“Do I need to go help clean up a mess?” Anders wasn’t quite joking when he asked.

Mitchell hurried to reassure him, “I didn’t hurt anyone. It was just a talk.”

Anders sighed and looked at Mitchell. “You can’t protect me from everything, you know.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I won’t try, though.”


End file.
